Ngaio Marsh - Overture to Death

“All the same,” said Dinah, “I do wonder why Mr. Alleyn wants us to go down to the hall to-night. I don’t want to go. The place gives me the absolute horrors.”

“Me, too. Dinah, I made such a fool of myself last night.”

He told her how he had heard the three chords of the “Prelude” as he came through the storm.

“I would have died of it,” said Dinah. “Henry, why do they want us to-night? Are they — are they going to arrest someone?”

“Who?” asked Henry.

They stared solemnly at each other.

“Who indeed,” said Dinah.

iii

“I tell you, Copeland, I’m pretty hard hit,” said the squire, giving himself a whisky-and-soda. “It’s so beastly uncomfortable. Have some more sherry? Nonsense, it’ll do you good. You’re not looking particularly happy yourself.”

“It’s the most dreadful thing that has ever happened to any of us,” said the rector. “How’s Miss Prentice?”

“That’s partly what I want to talk about. I ought to warn you — ”

The rector listened with a steadily blanching face to Jocelyn’s account of Miss Prentice.

“Poor soul,” he said, “poor soul.”

“Yes, I know, but it’s damned inconvenient. I’m sorry, rector, but it — well, it’s — it’s — Oh, God!”

“Would you like to tell me?” asked the rector, and if he spoke at all wearily Jocelyn did not notice it

“No,” said Jocelyn, “no. There’s nothing to tell. I’m simply rather worried. What d’you suppose is the meaning of this meeting to-night?”

The rector looked curiously at him.

“I thought you probably knew. Your position, I mean — ”

“As the weapon happens to be my property, I felt it better to keep right out of the picture. Technically, I’m a suspect.”

“Yes. Dear me, yes.” The rector sipped his sherry. “So are we all, of course.”

“I wonder,” said the squire, “what Alleyn is up to.”

“You don’t think he’s going to — to arrest anybody?”

They stared at each other.

“Dinner is served, sir,” said Taylor.

iv

“Good-night, dear,” said Dr. Templett to his wife. “I expect you’ll be asleep when I get home. I’m glad it’s been a good day.”

“It’s been a splendid day,” said the steadfastly gallant voice. “Good-night, my dear.”

Templett shut the door softly. The telephone pealed in his dressing-room at the end of the landing. The hospital was to ring before eight. He went to his dressing-room and lifted the receiver.

“Hullo?”

“Is that you, Billy?”

He sat frozen, the receiver still at his ear.

“Billy? Hullo? Hullo?”

“Well?” said Dr. Templett.

“Then you are alive,” said the voice.

“I haven’t been arrested, after all.”

“Nor, strangely enough, have I, in spite of the fact that I’ve been to Alleyn and taken the whole responsibility of the letter — ”

“Selia! Not on the telephone!”

“I don’t much care what happens to me now. You’ve let me down. Nothing else matters.”

“What do you mean? No, don’t tell me! It’s not true.”

“Very well. Good-bye, Billy.”

“Wait! Have you been told to parade at the hall this evening?”

“Yes. Have you?”

“Yes.” Dr. Templett brushed his hand across his eyes. He muttered hurriedly: “I’ll call for you.”

“What?”

“If you like I’ll drive you there.”

“I’ve got my own car. You needn’t bother.”

“I’ll pick you up at nine.”

“And drop me a few minutes later, I suppose?”

“That’s not quite fair. What do you suppose I thought when—?”

“You obviously don’t trust me. That’s all.”

“My God—!” began Dr. Templett. The voice cut in coolly:

“All right. At nine. Why do you suppose he wants us in the hall? Is he going to arrest someone?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

v

The church clock struck nine as the police car drew up outside the hall. Alleyn and Fox got out, followed by Detective-Sergeant Alison and two plain-clothes men. At the same moment, Nigel drove up in his own car with Sergeant Roper. They all went in through the back door. Alleyn switched on the stage lights and the supper-room light.

“You see the lie of the land, don’t you,” he said. “Two flights of steps from the supper-room to the stage. We’ll have the curtain down, I think, Fox. You can stay on the stage. So can you, Bathgate, in the wings, and with not a word out of you. You know when to go down and what to do?”

“Yes,” said Nigel nervously.

“Good. Alison, you’d better move to the front door, and you others can go into the dressing-rooms. They’ll come straight through the supper-room and won’t see you. Roper, you’re to go outside and direct them to the back door. Then come in. But quietly, if you don’t want me to tear your buttons off and half-kill you. The rest of you can stay in the dressing-rooms until the company’s complete. When it is complete, I’ll slam both doors at the top of the steps. You can then come into the supper-room and sit on the steps. The piano’s in position, isn’t it, Fox? And the screens? Yes. All right, down with the curtain.”

The curtain came down in three noisy rushes, releasing a cloud of dust.

With the front of the hall shut out, the stage presented a more authentic appearance. Dinah’s box set, patched and contrived though it was, resembled any touring company’s stock scenery, while Mrs. Ross’s chairs and ornaments raised the interior to still greater distinction. The improvised lights shone bravely enough on chintz and china. The stage had taken on a sort of eerie half-life and an air of expectancy. On the round table Alleyn laid the anonymous letter, the “Prelude in C Minor,” the “Venetian Suite,” the pieces of rubber in their box, the onion, the soap-box and the teapot. He then covered this curious collection with a cloth.

Fox and Alison brought extra chairs from the dressing-rooms and put one of the paraffin lamps on the stage.

“Eight chairs,” counted Alleyn. “That’s right. Are we ready? I think so.”

“Nothing else, sir?”

“Nothing. Remember your cue. Leave on the supper-room lights. Here he comes, I think. Away you go.”

Fox walked over to the prompt corner. Nigel went through the opposite door and sat out of sight in the shadow of the proscenium. Alison went down to the auditorium, the two plain-clothes men disappeared into the dressing-rooms, and Roper, breathing stertorously, made for the back door.

“Shock tactics,” muttered Alleyn. “Damn, I hate ’em. So infernally unfair, and they look like pure exhibitionism on the part of the police. Oh, well, can’t be helped.”

“I don’t hear a car,” whispered Nigel.

“It’s coming.”

They all listened. The wind howled and the rain drummed on the shutters.

“I’ll never think of this place,” said Nigel, “without hearing that noise.”

“It’s worse than ever,” said Fox.

“Here he is,” said Alleyn.

And now they all heard the car draw up in the lane. A door slammed. Boots crunched up the gravel path. Roper’s voice could be heard. The back door opened. Roper, suddenly transformed into a sort of major-domo, said loudly:

“Mr. Jernigham senior, sir.”

And the squire walked in.

i

“— So you see,” said Alleyn, “I was led to wonder if, to speak frankly, the object of her visit was blackmail.”

The squire’s face was drained of all its normal colour, but now it flushed a painful crimson.